


Heart Healing

by SandraMG



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraMG/pseuds/SandraMG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the benefit, Blake's mind is unsettled. It takes one song, help from a friend, and a long-time-coming confession to set his heart right again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Healing

**Author's Note:**

> You'll have to forgive me for this, but in a drunken Saturday night message session with Becky, we realized that a lot of the lyrics from One Republic's new album can be attributed to Shevine. So I did some digging and realized that Ryan Tedder did some work on Overexposed, and Adam did a little writing for Native and honestly we couldn't have planned it better if we HAD written it. So this is just something silly.
> 
> As always, everything is a complete fabrication of my own mind and the minds of likeminded shippers. I write the characters I see in my head, and I can't help it that these two idiots have such wonderful chemistry. I mean absolutely no disrespect or harm to the parties involved, nor do I wish to capitalize on the wonderful event Blake hosted for a good cause. This is simple, trifling fun.

  
_Lately I been, I been losing sleep_   
_Dreaming about the things that we could be_   
_But baby I been, I been prayin' hard_   
_Said no more counting dollars_   
_We'll be counting stars_   
_Yeah, we'll be counting stars_

The benefit was over, and Blake was breathing a huge sigh of relief. It hadn’t been easy; the whole thing had been an emotional clusterfuck if he was honest with himself. He just wanted to bring some happiness and some hope back to these people, and he had to check his own feelings at the door.

            The week had been a bit of a wreck actually.

            He was trying not to think about it.

            Everyone was mingling backstage, a makeshift party having started in the dressing rooms as volunteers dashed back and forth. Having been convinced that his job was done, that they could handle it and that he deserved a break, Blake went back and thanked his friends for coming out and performing and contributing. He downs two drinks in quick succession, grateful for the burn in his throat and the buzz in his head. His mind keeps drifting back to L.A., and he feels like a selfish sonofabitch.

            “Hey Blake!”

            Blake swallows quickly as he feels the hand on his back; turning, he sees Ryan Tedder, pop rock star and songwriter extraordinaire. He likes Ryan; the guy is talented as hell, though he reminds him a little too much of a certain someone he’s trying hard not to think about right now.

            “Ryan,” Blake gives him a sort of half hug and says, “Thanks so much for doing this buddy, it means the world to me.”

            “Anytime, this is a great thing you did man.” Ryan smiles and continues, “I was actually really excited for you to hear the song.”

            “Oh yeah it was great,” Blake says, slightly confused by the comment. “Wanted to have a little variety in the show, it’s catchy as hell.”

            “Yeah well, Adam really helped me out with it, so I knew you’d like it.”

            Blake shakes his head, sure that he’d misheard. “Did you say Adam - ?”

            Ryan looks at him quizzically, his head cocked to one side for a second, before a smile creeps onto his face and he says, “He didn’t tell you did he?”

            Suddenly the two bacardis and something he’d downed didn’t seem like such a good idea. Blake isn’t convinced that this is a big hallucination and his mind’s way of getting back at him for blocking out that jackass’ name all day.

            “Listen Blake,” Ryan’s voice seems to ground him, so Blake tries to focus. “Do me a favor: Call Adam right now. I can’t say anything else, but he helped me write that song and I kept my mouth shut about it in exchange for one thing: that he tell you the truth.”

            “The truth about what?” Blake asks

            Ryan shakes his head. “I can’t say anything else, this is Adam’s thing. Just go call him, and if you need to talk after, I’m here.”

            And then he’s gone, and Blake is left standing there, dumbstruck for a second, before curiosity wins out and he’s scrambling in his pocket for his phone and in search of a quiet corner.

            Adam picks up after 5 rings.

            It could be worse, Blake thinks.

            He might not have picked up at all.

            “Aren’t you supposed to be running a show right now?”

            “Did Ryan Tedder sing a song you wrote tonight?”           

            Silence, and then, “Which one?”

            Blake rolls his eyes and snaps back, “What there are multiple songs you’ve written for other people?”

            “Yes, actually dumbass, I’m a writer and Ryan and I wrote a lot last year, now did you just call to yell at me or is there a question you had cause I’m a little busy here.”

            “It was Counting Stars,” Blake answers, managing to keep his voice calm. “Ryan said you were supposed to tell me something about it, and he told me to call you.”

            Adam sighs and there’s a muffled “Son of a bitch” on the other end of the phone.  Then he says, “There was never a good time.”

            “For what?”

            “To tell you that I’m kind of in love with you?”

            There have been many times in his life where Blake Shelton has been at a loss for words. This is a first, wherein his voice seems to disappear completely, his brain beginning to shut down on instinct. Before it does though, he manages to get out, “What?”

            Adam sighs and says, “Don’t be an idiot, this is hard enough.”

            “Is this why you didn’t want to sing Home with me?” Blake asks bluntly.

            “Yeah,” Adam says, and doesn’t go on. Suddenly, things start to click for Blake as he reflects on Adam’s actions over the past year, tries to remember the lyrics from the song and remembers only one: _"I feel something so wrong at doing the right thing.”_

“I’m back in LA tomorrow. I’ll stop by.”

            “Blake,” Adam starts, and Blake can hear the pain in his voice, and it cuts right to his heart. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

            “It’s not hard,” he says. “What’s hard was singing that song without you tonight. What’s hard is knowing how bad I want to kiss you right now.”

            He can hear Adam inhale sharply and Blake hopes he hasn’t spooked him, but then he hears Adam’s laugh, that high pitched giggle, and it makes him the happiest he’s felt in a long time. It makes this whole night, with all the good he’s done for so many people, a little bit self-gratifying.

            "You and Usher did a great job by the way."

            "Yeah," Blake replies, non-committedly, his mind on only one thing. "But it wasn't you. It wasn't right." There was silence again, but it was an agreeable one, the kind where they both became lost in their thoughts and smiles. Finally, Blake had to ask. “So how many songs have you written about me?”

            “I don’t think we have that kind of time right now.”

            “Fine,” Blake smiled, and said, “You can tell me about it tomorrow.”


End file.
